


Work in Progress

by Thebiwife



Category: ER (TV 1994)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Friends to Lovers, LGBTQ Themes, Religion, Support Groups, Typical Biphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebiwife/pseuds/Thebiwife
Summary: Spoilers for s10Following Sandy's Death, Kerry is forced to work on her relationships with the other women in her life, leading to meeting a new someone special...
Relationships: Abby Lockhart & Kerry Weaver, Elizabeth Corday & Kerry Weaver, Kerry Weaver/Original Character, Susan Lewis & Kerry Weaver
Kudos: 9





	1. Elizabeth

“Kerry, do you have a minute?” I said, accosting her as she attempted to leave the admit desk.

“Sorry Elizabeth, this isn’t a good time.”

“I’m sorry Kerry, but no. I’ve tried to speak to you three times this week and you always give me the same response. It won't take long," I sighed, rummaging around in my pocket. "I have something for you,” I hesitated, before handing it over. “I hope it will help,” I said, handing her a business-sized card while she took a sip from her coffee.

The card had details of a group called _‘losing a loved one’;_ no frills, straight to the point; simple Christian imagery in the corner, a cross not dissimilar to the one Sandy’s mother had used in the funeral programme.

“I mean of course, this can’t have been easy on you. It was hard enough losing Mark and I had _some_ time to prepare for that, albeit not that much... but what I’m trying to say is, this group really helped me.”

“Elizabeth, I know you mean well, but I don’t believe you for a second.”

“Kerry, hear me out. I was sceptical too, didn’t think it was _for me_ . But just having other people around you who...who _get it_ , it’s really useful. I thought it might be good timing now that custody has been sorted. And of course, I’ll have Henry for the evening if that’s ever what’s stopping you.”

“You thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“If you want to stop by afterwards I’ll even order us in a pizza. Give it a go? This Thursday.”

I could tell Kerry still wanted to say no, but even so, her expression softened and she nodded. “Fine! But I have to be home by ten.”

“That’s fine by me.”


	2. Kerry

Inside the hall the sun’s glare shone through the beige dusty excuses for curtains that covered each window. The peeling wallpaper was less noticeable in the sun than in the shade, but the paper itself, garish orange and yellow daisies aging the hall by at least fifty years. I sat on a plastic chair in one corner, taking in that smell that reminded me of moms’ coffee mornings; weak coffee mixed with stale cookies and dust. 

Most of the attendees were just a little older than me, mid-to-late-forties to late fifties, many of them seemed to already know each other - the housewife types. Shortly a few others entered, a couple of individuals who stuck out like sore thumbs among the fifty-somethings. I stayed in my corner, smiling politely and picking the remnants of latex glove dust from my nails. Thankfully, also showing no desire to mill in and mix the room up a little, a girl who only looked about thirty sat beside me; she sat patiently as though waiting for a job interview. Despite the dark features and black dress, her ensemble said much more Business than it did Funeral. I liked that.

Another minute or so passed before Jenny entered and introduced herself apologetically for missing the first three valuable minutes of our time together. She runs the group as a volunteer and lives in Kenosha, meaning it’s a pretty hefty journey for a volunteer, so even Kerry would cut her some slack.

“While I sort myself out can you talk amongst yourselves..."

“Hi, I’m Kerry,” I said, turning to the one person near me, and coincidentally, the only person I really would've wanted to talk to.

“Nora, hi. Nice to meet you...”

“I would ask what brings you here but I’m aware that’s kinda evident…”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “...my husband died over a year ago. But I haven’t readily decided where I want to live. We moved around a lot so I don’t really have a _home…_ Chicago is my next shot.”

“It’s hard to know where you belong when you don’t have ties to any place.”

“Sure.”

“Well, welcome! So are you working here in Chicago?”

“Yeah. Well, I’m a freelance graphic designer so I have the work I brought with me. But it usually pays off to be based somewhere I can get plenty of work coming in.”

“Well I would love to commission you although the county hospitals don’t have a great budget for that kinda thing.”

“Oh are you a nurse?”

“No, I’m a doctor. Well I _was_ , now I’m chief of staff.”

“So...you’re in charge of the whole hospital?”

“For the most part.”

“Impressive. And...what brings you here?”

“Um...I lost my partner...my wife. A few months ago…” It had actually been almost _six_.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t...I mean, that’s why we’re all here, right?”

“Right. Have you been to one of these before?”

“No, this is my first. Have you?”

“Not here. I went to something similar when I was still in Ithaca, where my husband was a professor before he passed. But it was all very sudden, it was a bit soon, if anything.”

Kerry nodded. “A friend who came here talked me into it... I'm not convinced." 

* * *

The first session was primarily focused on getting to know each other so we felt comfortable when it gets to the point where we’re making ourselves vulnerable and opening up about bereavement to people we didn’t know yet. We spoke to the group openly about who we had lost, the impact it had on our lives, what steps we’d taken to return life to _normal_ , what _normal_ meant when you’d lost someone close. I smiled sympathetically in Nora’s direction as she talked far more easily about her husband than I had about Sandy. I envied her strength. 

We were tasked with finding time over the next week to sit and reflect on the person we lost, without allowing it to be a negative experience. 

“For those of us so inclined,” Jenny announced, “this is a five minute space for prayer. If you’re not a believer you’re welcome to use this time for silent reflection, and do speak to me at the end if you’d like to know more about our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”

Almost all of the room bowed heads and prayed along with Jenny’s words. My eyes awkwardly shifted from one side of the room to the other, until they crossed with Nora’s, who appeared to be the only other person in the room not _praying along_. She raised her eyebrows playfully at me, almost causing me to laugh. I hid my face in my hands to stop myself from giggling.

After a resounding _Amen_ that harked back to my school days in Africa, people stood up to begin milling about drinking coffee. For the first time since arriving I picked up my crutch that I had rested beneath my chair, and sought out Nora before I left.

“I’m sorry, I have to get going, I have a friend watching my son and I promised I’d have dinner with her. But I’ll see you around? Next Thursday?”

“Yeah, sure! It was very nice to meet you. Bye.”


	3. Nora

Saturday evening I forced myself out of my stuffy studio apartment; since I was working, sleeping, eating and showering in the same 60 square feet I thought it was about time to force myself out, so I wandered the streets around the near north side looking for one of the only gay bars in the downtown area, choosing first to eat at the Armenian restaurant below. Full of _lavash, eetch_ and _byorek,_ I wandered upstairs, ordering a vodka soda and sitting by the bar, where the bartender was happy to leave me reading my Mary Oliver collection in peace.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” a voice said to me as she approached the bar, the bartender intuitively pouring her a vodka.

“I could say the same thing,” I smiled, not expecting to see anyone I knew, having only been in Chicago for what must have been ten(?) days at this point. The number of people I _had_ met I could count on one hand, and that's including the guy at the Bodega at the bottom of my building. (I must remember that the locals call them "corner stores".)

I was struggling to place where I had met this woman. It was the red hair and the crutch that triggered my memory.

“..And then I remembered that you did say that you’re a lesbian. Or you had a wife? Sorry I can’t remember which,” I stuttered between sentences.

“Right...yeah, I think it was the latter," she smiled, handing over a ten dollar bill to the bartender. She lowered her voice, "I’m still not really there yet, not with the whole _being out to strangers_ thing. As a lesbian that is.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?” I asked as I dog-eared the corner of my page.

“I don’t know...I’ve been in the public eye a little in the past, what with my job and...I always thought it was easier to let people assume what they want. Unless they know me on a personal level, why do they really need to know?”

“Well, for one, it’s good for other queer women to see successful queer women.”

“Yes, one of my exes was a big advocate for that...and I do suppose it’s getting easier now, slowly but surely. When I talk about losing my wife...two birds with one stone, for want of a better analogy.”

I nodded. “So you’re probably wondering why _I’m_ here?”

“Yes _and_ no. I thought I may have to warn you that women may hit on you here, but you seem rather at ease with that.”

I looked at her, trying to guess if that was her explaining _her_ motive when striking up the conversation. “I guess having moved around a lot I usually find gay bars are the most welcoming and least intimidating for lone women. And also I'm bi.”

“Oh. Well don’t stay here drinking alone for my sake, join me. My friend won’t be here until gone ten.”

“You’re _two hours_ early!?”

“I knew that if I went home I wouldn’t want to come back out. I mean, out to a bar at night. Not _out_.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m glad you did, Kerry.”

“Me too,” she smiled back.


	4. Susan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months prior...

“Kerry, you need to get up if you’re going to pick up Henry at noon,” I said, opening the blinds in the living room. “You also need to stop sleeping on the couch, it can’t be good for your hip.”

As much as I was glad to not have to invite myself into her bedroom, it was probably preferable to this, she looked _terrible._ There were piles of plates in the sink, as well as TV guides littering the floor, one on the mat where they would lay Henry. Her outfit from last night was strung over the back of a dining room chair and her glasses discarded haphazardly on the edge of the table. It might not seem like much, but for Kerry Weaver, this was _bad_. 

As I moved closer to her I noticed she still had the remnants of make-up on her face, which was genuinely subtle enough to not notice she's really wearing any. 

“I’m not judging, Kerry, but don’t you...take a shower after your shifts in the ER?”

“Susan…” she whined, still rubbing her eyes in an attempt to adjust to the light streaming in, make-up smudging now exponentially worse.

“Kerry, I know you don’t like me accosting you after a night shift, but this is important. This is your _son_.”

“I know, Susan.”

“And you want to make a good impression on the Lopezes’ lawyer.”

“I know.”

“Let me run you a bath. I’m working at noon so can drive you in.”

“I can drive just fine, Susan.”

“Great, _you_ can drive _me_ in, then.” 

Kerry pulled up the blinds on her street-facing window, to see Susan’s car nowhere to be found. “You were presumptuous to think I would _let_ you drive my car.”

”Of course you would. And you'll be incredibly glad I'm here once the panic sets in.”

"I can look after myself Susan. I wish you, and the other two," she said, shaking her hands dismissively, undoubtedly flustered by my showing up and struggling to remember the names of my co-conspirators Abby and Elizabeth - her only other friends at work, really - "...would just leave me to it."

”Ker,” I said softly, moving to sit beside her now her feet had vacated a spot for me next to her on the couch. “I know this is hard. I know how much you loved your family and how tough it must be to have to come home to an empty house. But you need to approach today, and every thing that makes you just want to curl up and disappear, the way you approach your work.”

"Oh, and how would that be?"

"Being able to get yourself ready for work in a pinstripe pantsuit and pin your hair in a cute little up do. But despite being more than capable to kick 28-year-old Susan's ass, or to be fair, _35-year-old Susan's ass_ , as soon as anything around Henry or Sandy comes up you turn into this,” I gestured to the general state of the room. “You're feeling this way because you _care_ , Kerry. You love your son, you love Sandy, and while the universe has dealt you a shit hand, you're letting it. You wouldn't let _me_ get away with it. So don't let _anyone_ get away with it. They are _your_ family, Ker. And today is the first step towards rebuilding that."

In one of the most unexpected moments of my life, Kerry wrapped her arms around me in that moment. 

"You must be feeling pretty nervous about today, huh?" I said, after a few seconds, I tried to pull away, _quite enough hugging my boss for one day_ , but I couldn't quite maneuver my way out of it. I resorted instead to patting her back, as affectionate as I could muster on a Monday morning after only one cup of coffee (or maybe it was two?) "But you're going to ace this, there's no-one Henry loves more than his Mommy. Except maybe his Aunt Susan."

Kerry laughed softly, rubbing her eyes. "I just hope he remembers me."

"How could he forget you? How could _anyone_ forget you? You're the most impressionable person I know. Now, you have a bath, use whatever stuff you usually do that leaves you smelling all mommy-like like you usually do, that way he'll definitely remember you. I'll sort the dishes and all of this...and then I'm making brunch," I said, finally able to pull away from her and walking over to look in Kerry's fridge. There was a sad looking lemon, some jars of pickles and jams, and the last inch of a stick of butter. "...I'm _ordering_ brunch!"


	5. Nora/Abby

**Nora**

“...So how _do_ you feel about the whole... _praying at the end_ thing,” I asked. I had been playing my cards close to my chest, not really giving much away about myself, beyond the most basic bits of personal information. I was trying to tell myself that _the praying_ had been the main reason I was considering not going back.

“It was, well, _Nostalgic,_ " Kerry laughed. "I grew up with Christian parents, and we moved to Africa to plant a church, so I’m kinda used to it. I didn’t always know I was gay so I suppose it didn’t feel like it was a conflict at all back then, but it explains why I never really engaged with Christianity. How about you?”

"I'm... sceptically agnostic. It's always been bizarre for me that wherever I go in this country, there's always an element of 'opting out' not really being an option."

“Right, I understand. You didn’t ever believe, then?”

“Not particularly. Did you?"

"Hmmm. I'd say the church was just like, an extension of my home life. Like, the same rules my parents had at home, with just, a bit less love behind them. I mean, don't get me wrong, Jesus was all about love, and so my parents were as well. As much as they never knew that I'm gay, I mean _I_ didn't even know until a few years back...I'm sure they would've just wanted to _protect_ me."

I nodded. 

"It is funny that certain things make more sense to me now than they did then.”

“Like what?”

“Like not being interested in being _more than friends_ with any boys. And being _very_ close friends with one local girl whose family were very involved in the church, and not understanding why her parents didn’t want us to be friends anymore, not after they saw us holding hands while we were praying. Even though we’d done that for years.”

“With hindsight it was perfectly innocent, I was still elementary school age and we were just inseparable like a lot of girls are at that age.”

“How old were you?”

“I must’ve been six or seven when we first met. We were eleven when I had to stop being her friend. Right before her parents ever said anything I distinctly remember thinking _this is such a great friendship, god must really want us to be close,_ then all of a sudden we weren’t allowed to be friends anymore and they stopped coming to our church, which I didn't understand since all I wanted was to have her play with my hair and come to my house for sleepovers like we had done for years.”

“You weren’t kissing behind the pews then?”

“Oh no. I mean, looking back I definitely fancied her, but at that age I didn’t even know what that _meant._ Being gay was not remotely on my radar. But as I said, neither were boys.”

“So why did _her_ family have a problem?”

“It’s a cultural difference, I think. But in more ways than one...what I’m really getting at is...people have always known I was different, mostly because I’m disabled, but I always chalked down my differences to _just that_ , never really thinking that maybe there was something _else_ different about me. And being in a part of the world where that was particularly difficult, even today...maybe they saw it in me?”

I nodded, trying to imagine growing up queer and disabled in a place where neither would have been easy. 

“So you’re a bi woman who frequents gay bars?”

“Well...yes I suppose,” I laughed. “Only recently though, the gay bar thing...I _was_ always out to my husband, but never really to our wider circle. Especially when a lot of them didn’t even like the fact I wasn’t born into a Muslim family.” 

There it was, my mouth getting ahead of me. Chill, Nora, talk less.

“Oh, so your husband was Muslim?”

"Yeah, I technically converted but...we weren't exactly _practising_. But he was a professor in Anthropology and Muslim Cultures. ...What did your wife do?"

"She was a Firefighter...it was actually an accident, a roof collapse, that led to her death." 

"I'm so sorry," I said, not sure if I should _take her hand_ to comfort her, or if she wasn't the _touchy-feely_ kind of person.

Before I came to my conclusion Kerry moved her arm and looked at her watch.

“I’m sorry, my friend will be here any minute. You’re welcome to join us?” she said, although immediately wished she hadn’t. 

“That’s ok, I have to get going...need to get something to eat before it gets too late.” I am such a liar.

“Of course. I’m really glad we got to talk.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe we can do this again? How about after next week’s meeting?”

“Sure,” I smiled, getting up. 

“Maybe dinner? I promise I won’t make plans to see friends afterwards.”

“That sounds great, thankyou.”

“This is her,” Kerry said, standing up to greet her friend as I put on my coat and waved back to her.

* * *

**Abby**

“Hey, you’re punctual,” Kerry smiled as I joined her. “You tend not to get away on time since you’re not punching the clock.”

“Didn’t want you to think I was standing you up. Was that someone you know?”

“Someone from my bereavement group.”

“Oh wow. Making friends then?”

“Well, we were both here by sheer coincidence.”

“And is she...your way inclined?”

“I don’t know really, I mean, she said she’s _bi_ but she was married to a man.”

“Kerry, you were _married_ to a _man_ ,” I pointed out, laughing.

Kerry chose to ignore that comment.

“But hey, get you, talking to other women.”

Kerry shrugged. “ _She_ kept wanting to talk about _me_. And it’s not like I go to that meeting to _meet someone_.”

“That’s true. If it’s anything like AA I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

“I like her though, like, I felt I could properly open up the way I don’t with...well, _anyone_.”

“Not even me?”

“If I weren’t your boss, Abby, I _would_ tell you everything. 

I laughed. “One to keep an eye on then? Strictly as a _friend,_ of course _._ ”

“Perhaps…” Kerry blushed.


	6. Kerry

**Kerry**

  
I sat in the same corner as last week, scratching at the chipped nail polish on my fingernails. I knew I'd have to take it off before my ER shift that weekend, so it wasn't like picking it off was such a _terrible_ thing to do, although usually I would be the one to tell off others for doing it. Primarily Kim, she was the worst for it. Wow, I must have felt nervous.

Nora was one of the last in, and immediately sat in the seat next to me I'd hoped I wouldn't have to turn anyone else away from. “You still on for dinner later?” I asked her in a whisper as Jenny set up her slides, about to begin.

She nodded and smiled back. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The meeting was very similar to last week's, although as the second in the series we delved a little more into the _feelings_ behind how we felt. Personally, I didn't like to share so much; I did get the impression that a few of us, probably also the most recently bereaved, weren't quite _there_ yet. But it was reassuring to know that most people in the room had gone through most of the feelings I had, and now felt in a position to talk about it.

When Nora began to speak I didn't really listen so much to what she was saying, I could tell plenty about how she felt from her voice. While I picked up on her husband's name - Ansar, she had said - the sense of _loneliness_ struck me, which hadn't been a familiar feeling to me until very recently. Until I met Sandy, I'd been as lonely as I am now, just without ever realising it. It was only from then building up my life with Sandy and then Henry that it became so apparent how lonely I actually had been all along. When I found myself handing Henry back over to his grandparents after spending a mere 2 weekends a month with him and feeling — just as I had when I lost Sandy — bereaved all over again.

While I'd been happy to talk about Sandy and Henry and the struggles of getting custody as a single (gay) parent, Nora had been much more hesitant to share anything about herself, both the "deeper" stuff as well as in the sense of idle chitchat. Heck, she was a lot less than I had been when it was just the two of us last weekend in the bar than she seemed while we we sitting in an impossible corner of the circle. I supposed I was used to having people sticking their nose into my private life and had learned to deal with it, but never really reflected on it. But as she spoke, I couldn't imagine being so lonely; and while being on my own for the moment had been a relatively short stretch compared to hers - at least mine twice over - I'd had enough of _that_ , let alone doing all of that in a new city.

As the prayers began I nudged Nora and reached over for her hand. "Can we _not pray_ together?" I whispered to her.

She nodded, taking my hand and squeezing it as the chorus of _Amen_ resounded at the end.

* * *

After the meeting ended we began to walk towards the near north side. 

"You must have a great group of friends," Nora said, nodding as I received a third text message asking how the week's meeting had gone. "Right. Yeah, they like to check up on me. And they're taking it in turns to watch my son these Thursday evenings,"

Nora nodded, smiling unconvincingly.

"I hope you have somebody like that?" Kerry looked at her with a concerned air as she didn't quite address Kerry's question, and didn't give her a response beyond a sharp exhalation of breath. "Nora?" Kerry promoted.

"Yeah, sorry. Just running away with my thoughts. Sounds like me huh? Running away a lot.."

"Right, you said you've moved around a fair bit?"

"Yeah...we were both from Newark, but we lived in New York and then moved up state for Ansar's work once we got married."

"Sorry, I wasn't clear...I meant on your own? Finding a place to settle down?"

"Oh, yeah. I just kept jumping a state westward, really. Penn. Ohio. Now here."

Kerry nodded. "Do you have any family nearby or anything?"

"Um, not really. My brother is in Kentucky, otherwise my parents and sister are back in Jersey. I don't think they'll ever leave..."

"They're only a phonecall away though?" I said.

She nodded.

"You know, there's no shame in it."

"Shame in what?"

 _"Running away._ I almost did."

"You did?"


	7. Elizabeth/Abby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months prior...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers for & dialogue from 10x20 "Abby Normal"

**Elizabeth**

Monday morning before work I dropped by Kerry's place on my way in to drop some of Ella's baby things. It had always astounded me how much was spent on an infant for how little time (relatively) they would fit into the various bib, hats, pants and booties.

I knocked on Kerry's door, unable to decipher with whom she was conversing inside; it sounded like far too business-like a conversation to be having with a three-month-old, although I wouldn't put it past Kerry to still be taking work home with her even on the weekends she did have her son, shitty arrangement as it was. I would've said _I hate to drop by unannounced,_ (when really what I would have meant is _yes, I also hate it when people drop by unannounced, but in your state, Kerry, you need this_ ). Besides, leaving more than a couple of messages on the machine counted as _announcing_ myself, in my book. To be frank, she needed a check-in and a friendly face far more than any baby clutter, however, hostile as things were with the Lopezes, I doubt they were showering her in gifts, and she had never mentioned anything about family on _her side_ to me before.

She let me in, albeit with a tone of reluctance in her voice; particularly when I remarked on the packed suitcase on her dining table, as well as the passport she would apparently need to travel domestically. Her tone shifted to faux-gratitude, leaning on eye-widening annoyance when I enquired how long she would be gone.

"Kerry, don't do anything you might regret later," I warned her.

"Thanks for the clothes," she replied, bluntly.

I looked upon her with a deep sadness that went beyond pity.

In work it was a struggle to even catch Abby for a second, now she was running between ER and Psych and myself doing the same between the ground and surgical floors. We thankfully crossed paths for a mere minute, strikingly bizarre that if there were anyone else I'd need to speak to about Kerry on a _professional level_ at this point, she would equally have been the first point of call.

But it wasn't an episode, I was sure of that. Kerry had known very much what she was doing, both in how she acted and spoke to me that morning, not that this diminished my level of concern. 

_I'm worried she's thinking of running off with him_ would seem much more of a superficial concern were I not referring to a gay woman who was in a custody battle for her own son.

"I tried talking to her but I couldn't seem to get through."

"I'm sympathetic, but, maybe we should ask someone who's, you know, a closer friend."

"Right. Like who?"  
  


* * *

**Abby**

Honestly, once the Lopezes, without an _ounce_ of compassion for a woman who merely a month ago would've been spending time with them as one family, I didn't blame her for wanting to run away. I could hear Kerry telling me _I can't do this,_ and _fuck_ , she's the strongest person I know. 

Searching the empty lounge my heart kept dinking further, my heart beating faster as the steps of Florina and her lawyer grew closer to the door. How people could build that disdain for a person on bigotry, using their outdated beliefs to justify it, for a poor woman who's been through every parent’s worst nightmare of losing a child, yet so hell-bent on imposing said nightmare on another.

They continue to follow me, inches from making me snap; the only thing that stops me from turning to confront them is seeing the look of wonder on the child's face as his mother held him in the air.

After returning Henry to his grandmother, Kerry and I sat on the bench in the ambulance bay for sometime, before slowly returning inside. I stayed and lit up a cigarette, spotting Susan walking towards me, both heavily pregnant and out of breath.

"Did Kerry see me?" Susan asked, looking into the entrance to check if her boss looked back.

"No, she was preoccupied," I mumbled.

"Henry?" Susan asked, sitting beside me on the bench and removing her sweater, 

I nodded. "Elizabeth caught her packing a suitcase on the phone to an airline this morning," I said, stubbing out my cigarette. "But she just handed Henry over to Mrs. Lopez now."

"Shit," Susan replied. She shuffled uncomfortably on the bench beside me.

"This doesn't look like bed rest."

"It's not..." Susan moaned. "But I just _can't_. I know there are things that need doing, I was just going to pick them up then head home to do it."

"Do me a favour," I said. "Let me ask Kerry to drop them off for you."

"Why would you do that? Why would _she_ do that?"

"She needs to see people, and we need to try harder."

"Try harder at what?"

"Being her friend."


End file.
